


A Loop of Unhappiness

by AnotherMHFan



Category: Marble Hornets
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-07 02:14:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12223674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherMHFan/pseuds/AnotherMHFan
Summary: He doesn't remember a time when Brian wasn't beside him.





	A Loop of Unhappiness

**Author's Note:**

> Brian's got some memory problems. And Tim just wants to fix him.

The light peaks in through the window blinds and dust to settle itself on dark blonde curls. Tim's been awake for hours, watching, waiting, but he doesn't want to move. Not yet. The arrival of the sun tells him Brian will be awake soon, and Tim knows that means another day of trying to fix the unfixable. 

The warm weight of Brian on Tim's chest shifts in discomfort; the light has reached his eyelids. His fingers tighten their grip on Tim's shirt for protection, and Tim lays a steady hand overtop Brian's face. He'd do anything to keep Brian in this blissful state of rest because he knows it's the only time when Brian is happy anymore. 

But all good things come to an end. And soon Tim can feel the soft flutter of Brian's eyelashes against his hand and he begins to stir. He's aware of Brian's beating heart through his chest, the steady pulse that used to keep Tim grounded is now rapidly speeding up in fear. Brian sits up, and Tim watches those broken green eyes focus on him, gaze at him like he's another part of his dream. Tim knows what he's about to say before he even utters it.

"Where am I?"

The charm, the confidence to his soft mellow voice has been drained away completely, and in its place is something scared, nervous. Like a frightened rabbit, worried of everything and anything in the room, clinging to Tim's chest still without even knowing it.

"You're home." 

A flurry of emotions cross his face, unsure of what to think. Tim knows he doesn't recognize this room. He knows the old posters that he used to love are foreign to him, the stack of psychology books are someone else's, the pictures stuck to the mirror entirely unfamiliar. The pile of scattered charcoal drawings, the ones with X's and O's and frantic messages are recognizable to Brian. And the tattered yellow hoodie covered in mud and what Tim believes is blood, that, Tim is certain he will remember. 

A soft exhale comes from Brian as he pulls himself from Tim's lap entirely. "Home? I-I... Tim?"

A wave of relief crashes over Tim and forms into a soft sigh. Good. Brian remembers him today. 

"It's me."

A choked noise comes from Brian's throat and the weight of the world seems to crash down on his shoulders, worry lines immediately settling on his face. Tim knows he remembers what he's done. He doesn't say anything, and Tim can see the jumble of memories that consume him all at once through those fractured eyes.

For years, Brian lost himself. Wandered the woods, lived solely on whatever food he could find and nothing more than a raggedy old hoodie and a mask to his name. Tim knows it wasn't his fault, that that monster had changed him. Twisted him. Tortured him.

Tim didn't know the man behind the hood was Brian. If he had, he would've done anything he could to help him, to find him again. When Brian needed his help most, Tim wasn't there. And he can never forgive himself for that. 

Nor can he forgive himself for what happened at Benedict Hall. One moment, Tim was full of white-hot fury, ready to rip the hooded monster to shreds. The next, with the limp mask in hand, he is frozen, unable to do anything but let the horror of his actions sink in. 

But before he could save him, Brian was gone. Taken. And months later, when Brian should have been dead and Tim had nearly given up searching for his body, he found him. Just laying there. His back against a tree, legs sprawled out at an awkward angle that implies something's not right. Maybe they're broken. 

It's not his legs that are broken, but his spine and his spirit. When Tim tried to move him, those eyes snapped open with such fear and pain that Tim nearly had a heart attack. Brian yells at him with a hoarse voice, but the way he speaks is wrong. He doesn't know Tim. 

Tim takes him away after hours of coercing and helps him to walk. Home is where Brian wants to go, so home it is. It's been months now and Tim knows that Brian isn't ever going to get better.Tim would do anything, and for Brian, he has all the time in the world and beyond. 

"How long has it...?" A few words, barely audible. Tim knows exactly what he means and he doesn't want to say. But those eyes won't leave Tim, they're searching for the answer. And Tim can't help but lie to him.

"Not long. It's over now."

Reassurance floods Brian and he nods, but the guilt remains in the shadows of his face, making him seem much older than he really is. Brian knows what he's done to Tim is irreversible, what he's done to all of them.

His voice cracks mid-sentence and falls apart quickly. "Tim, i-it wasn't me, I don't-"

"I know."

Brian doubted that Tim really knew how he felt, those shattered eyes finally leaving Tim. They can't take looking at him any longer, not without seeing everything he's ever done to wrong Tim. 

There was a time when their roles were reversed. Years ago, when they were in college together. Tim thought he was alone, absolutely terrified of the monsters that pervaded him. And Brian, with all his heart, was there for Tim. When nightmares would plague Tim and he'd wake up screaming, sobbing, Brian was there. When paranoia crashed over him in crippling waves, to the point where he was shaking from sleep deprivation, Brian was there. When he was so depressed he didn't have the life to even leave his bed, Brian was there. He was always there for Tim. 

It wasn't that he said something in particular to make Tim feel better, because Tim didn't always hear his words. For years, people told him he would get better. That he'll be fine. That soon, he'll be as happy and normal as everyone else. (Liars). 

Brian wasn't like that. He knew that sometimes, words didn't have to be spoken. Life was awful to Tim. And it wasn't going to get better soon. Brian knew, even if he didn't fully understand, that Tim was sick of it all, sick of everything and everyone. He hated the world and the world hated him back.

Sometimes Brian would just sit beside him. For hours, they'd just coexist, hand in hand. Brian was like an anchor to keep Tim steady, there to keep him safe and still. Soon, Tim found himself wandering into Brian's dorm just to see him and Brian would drop everything for Tim. That's all he wanted, to be with Brian. To see that charming smirk, to listen to his voice, to soak in Brian's presence and have hope for once in his miserable life. How did things escalate this far out of hand?

Silent tears slid down Brian's hollow cheeks, unfocused eyes gazing at the wall and trying to piece together what had happened. Tim knew he didn't remember it all. And Tim knew he didn't want to. Carefully, very carefully, Tim reached his hand out to Brian's shoulder. And Brian, without warning, latched onto Tim's chest and hugged him tight enough that Tim could feel his lungs closing in. 

Watching Brian deteriorate before his eyes was, without a doubt, the worst thing that had ever happened to Tim. Every day, waking up to find the love of his life alive and breathing beside him was a miracle he didn't think he'd be blessed to have. Finding Brian alive, having a second chance to fix things, that's all Tim wanted. And he got it, didn't he?

Everything Tim touches is perverted, ruined by him. An infection spreading through the tips of his fingers and destroying all that is good, watching as he causes those he loves to burn and turn to ashes. Brian was not an exception. 

There was nothing Tim could do more to help. Shattered glass can't be pieced back together the way it was before. It will remain broken forever, no matter how hard he tries to fix it. 

"I'm sorry," Brian whispers in the crook of Tim's neck, his fat hot tears welling up and dampening Tim's shirt. His fingers curling up the back of Tim's head and buried themselves in his hair, and he can feel them tremble, as if they're scared he'll hurt Tim again. And Tim doesn't say a word.

By routine, they spend the rest of their day cuddling, sleeping, breathing. And sometimes, if Tim closes his eyes, he can imagine nothing's changed. Brian's company was unlike any other, and existing near him, being a part of him was something Tim wouldn't trade for the world. The gentle rise and fall of his chest, the steadfast heartbeat to keep Tim from drifting off, he needed it. He needed him. 

It was his presence. Brian, made entirely of warmth and kindness, genuinely cared for Tim when no one else did. That smile that would light up the world, that, is what Tim fell in love with because that smile told him he meant more to Tim than anything else, anyone else. That smile told him he was worth something to someone. All Tim wanted was to be loved.

The sun falls and rises and a new day dawns. A beam of light strikes Brian's face again, and Tim knows exactly what will happen. He stirs, he opens those mournful eyes that are still wet from last nights tears. And his voice wavers, layered with confusion and worry, and Tim's heart sinks. Tim knows what Brian's going to say before he even utters it.

"Who are you?"


End file.
